February 29th

http://www.cmmayo.com/d5mwearchives.february.html


Use this as your opening line:
I was born on February 29th. 


Unfortunately I only get to celebrate my birthday on my birthday, every four years. Since the 29th is the extra day they add on to the end of Februray during a leap year, and since otherwise there are only 28 days in that month I have to choose, either February 28th or March 1st for my birthday each year. While you may say that this would be fun; Hey I get to choose what day my birthday is... Try handing someone a drivers license with that date on it, and see how many people tell you it's fake. *sigh*

(As a side note. This is fictional. My birthday is not February 29th. Just for those out there who would ask...)

Haiku 2

Snow in spring. Why now?
You make it too cold. Be gone.
Didn't you hear me?

Cider

Writing exercise from http://www.cmmayo.com/d5mwearchives.february.html


The ancient door creaked open and from the darkness she caught of a whiff of something like old apples. She pulled the string to the light bulb; the stairwell remained dark. "Bulb's dead," he said. 
Write on!


"Well it wouldn't be if you had bothered to change it last month like I ask you to. Now we're in the middle of a snow storm, and I can't even get into the cellar to get my cider!"
"I haven't fixed it because I can't find the ladder, Janice."
"You would know where the ladder is if you put things back after you use them." Janice retorted.
Howard sighed, and stepped into the darkness. He knew where everything was in his house. He knew every creak, and squeak in the stairwell. He even knew exactly where Janice kept her cider, though he'd never tell her. He grabbed a bottle out of the cobwebs, and headed back for the stairwell. 
"Here you are sweetheart, right where you told me it would be."
"Thank you dear." Janice smiled at her husband sweetly.

Panic

The feeling low in my stomach. The twisting, churning sickness that tells me I'm having a panic attack. I recognize it now. The inability to focus. I'm stuck. I can't think of anything else. Trying to take my mind of what's causing the attack. Think of something, anything else. What am I gonna do? What if...? Think of something else. Deep breaths. I talk to myself out loud.
"Is this important?" "No."
"Will it harm you?" "No."
"Will it harm your family?" "No."
"In the end this is not worth all of this is it?" "No."
"Good. Now take a deep breath, and move on."
IN
OUT
*sigh*

Block

I opened the fortune cookie and unfurled the paper within. Elegant surroundings will soon be yours. Not what I expected, but classic vague fortune cookie fortune none the less.

To tell you the truth. I tried to think of something to write here, and BAM! Writers block. I could not think of a @#$%ED thing to write.


I got today's blurb from here. http://www.cmmayo.com/d5mwearchives.february.html

Racist

In no more 10 words for each, sketch the characters named Jamilla, Joyce and Larry. Once you've done that, answer these question quickly (without thinking): where are they? And what do they want from one another?


Here goes nothin...


Jamilla: Short Arabic woman. Speaks fluent American. Distrustful of strangers.
Joyce: Religious fanatic. Fast talker. Faster at putting foot in mouth.
Larry: Married to Joyce. Quiet. Soft spoken. Hard working. Stubborn.

Joyce, and Larry are sitting at a table in the mall food court, and Joyce is talking to Larry about "those terrorist folks" and suddenly she sees Jamilla. She whispers that they should move. Jamilla hears the conversation, and tries to ignore Joyce. She looks down at her table, and waits until they finally leave.

Le Sigh

Ah. the sweet and spicy aroma of Chai Tea, blended with the crunchy, peanut buttery goodness of a girl scout Do-Si-Do,

I sigh.

I'm calm, calmer than I have been in a long time. 

Calmer then I should be considering all that's going on in my life. 

Triumph, and victory are words that I never really thought I would be familiar with, and yet there they are.

Thomas

You're a year older on this day.
Try as I might I don't know what to say.
I think I'll express it in verse
It's not so bad, it could be worse.
Think of family, think of friends
The ones who'll be there at the end.
I'm sorry if this was too wordy.
Happy Birthday Thomas. You're turning Forty!

Mystery

I don't think I would be good at writing mystery. I want to give to much away at the beginning, thinking that if I font explain the whole thing right off the bat, the the reader won't understand whats going on, and wouldn't be sucked into the story. That, and I seem to have issues with writing a beginning middle and end, that all correspond with each other. Grrr. I guess that's why I'm doing this. What does the future hold for my writing? We shall soon see... we shall soon see.

Guard

My husband has been out of town for a few days. While he was gone, the Jack Russell terrier (Blade) that we care for has was my constant companion when I was at home. He followed me around the house at my heals. He slept on the bed with me for four days, and protected me. He guarded me as though Tony had giving him a sacred mission to protect my life and limb while he was away. Unfortunately I think he got too used to having bed privileges.
Tony arrived home last night, a little after one am. When he crawled into bed, and attempted to kick Blade off the bed, the disgruntled canine looked up at him with an expression that said; "You want me to do what? You're banishing me to the sleeping bag in front of the heater again? After all I did for you while you were gone. After I watched over your female person?! He snorted, glared at Tony, and jumped off the bed. Trotting over to my side, Blade looked up at me with longing. Will YOU let me back up in the bed?
 "Go to bed Blade." I said. " I scratched his head. "Go on." He snorted again, and tried, futility to use the puppy dogs eyes on me once more before finally giving up, and laying down.

Fairy Tales

I love fairy tales. I really do. The epic stories. The battle between good and evil. The prince rescuing the princess, or in some cases, the other way around. I love the idea that the world can be that special, that miraculous. It rarely is, but it's nice to think that some time, somewhere, someone is living out a real life fairy tale.

Fan

Riding in the car with my daughter, she asked me to sing for her. First it was Twinkle, Twinkle Little Little Star, then it was The Itsey Bitsey Spider. Then it was a song I couldn't figure out... honestly, I had no idea what she was asking me for so I started making them up. After three or four made up songs, I decided to sing Once Upon a Dream from Sleeping Beauty. The silly girl asked me to sing it over, and over. Finally my throat began to hurt, and I stopped.

"Good singing Mommy." Was the very next sound I heard. My heart near overflowed with joy, and love.

My eyes teared up. "Thank you baby. You wanna hear another one?"

"Yes!"

Despite my drying throat, I keep on singing for her, and before long she was lulled to sleep by the sound of my voice.

I hope she stays my number one fan.

Sometimes

Sometimes... sometimes you don't know how badly you wanted something until you realize that you can't have it. It's that sudden realization that no matter how you logic yourself into it, in the end... it's not the right choice. Sometimes... sometimes it sucks to be an adult.

Movies

I found some old movies that I watched when I was a kid. Joseph, and King of Egypt. I had forgotten how much these movies affected me. Though I have to admit, I find it interesting what I notice about them now, as an adult. I cry at different things, notice things I never understood as a child. 

I wonder what this will be like for my daughter? What will she see in The Princess and the Frog, that she isn't seeing now? Will she love it as much as she does now?

I guess we shall see.

Alone

When my husband told me he was going to Arizona for the week to help family, I thought Cool, I'll have the house all to myself. But now that my daughter has gone to her Gigi's house to stay for the night; while I work, all I can think is The house seems so empty. I guess when you're used to having anywhere from three to five people in a home at any given time, being alone is not all that great. As I look around what I'm really thinking is I have the next two days off. I can clean the house top to bottom, and FINALLY get the laundry done! Woohoo! Wow...

Ideas

I need an idea for today's blurb baby. Help me out. Got any ideas?
"Technology."
I just stared at him.
He held up his pillow. "Pillow."
I continued to stare at him with disbelief, and he continued to pick things up off the bed and suggest them as a writing idea.
"Bottle."
"Shirt."
"Bella's car chair."
"Seriously? That's the best you can come up with?"
"Well, do you have an idea yet?"
I paused. "Yeah actually I do."
"Heh! Awesome! I helped."

The Letter

I don't know if you'll see this. But I love you. I don't know you, but I love you. I walk by this bench everyday, and you sit here eating your lunch, not knowing that I remember you. Not knowing that I can picture your face when I've gone, and left you to your lunch on the bench. I don't know your name, or how old you are. I don't know if you have lots of family, or have none. I don't know what you like to do on your off time, or what your favorite food is, but I love you anyway. One of these days I might work up the courage to let you know, but for now, this letter will have to suffice. I love you. I'll see you tomorrow.

I set the paper down on the bench, and walk away, grinning. I'm going to make someone's day tomorrow... or make them thing they have a stalker. Either way, it's a good prank.

Pulled

The words tonight feel as though they are being pulled from me. As  though  every  letter  is  a   struggle.  The more  I  try  to   write  the  harder   and  harder  it   becomes   to   form   a   coherent  thought.    My   need   to get   something  down,    and   out  of    my   head,    and   onto    the   computer,    is    overriding    my    need   to    sleep.  What's      that     you     say?     Sleep?    Sleep    is      a      wonderful     thing     I     used     to   do.....

Book

The book. A friend. A journey. An adventure waiting for you to being it. How many times have I lost myself in it's worn, cinnamon scented pages. Nothing will match the feeling it gives me. No technological marvel will ever match the wonderful feeling of holding a book in my hands, of smelling the ink, and paper. I will never forget you. Never replace you. You will forever hold a place in my heart dear friend.

Lizard Cowboy

"I've never..."

"Shush." he held a finger to my lips. "I'll take care of everything."

He ran his knuckles down my cheek, and I closed my eyes. Slowly he moved his hands down, and began to lift up my shirt.

Suddenly the door burst open and we were interrupted by a lizard man in a cowboy hat.

"Don't do it! If you have sex with him now the entire universe will be thrown out of balance!"

My jaw hit the floor. "What the hell is going on?!"

I sat up gasping. Wide awake now, I looked around at my room and my familiar things. It was just a dream. That's it. No more jelly oranges before bed.

Bartender

CRASH!
What now?
I took a deep breath and looked up. A fist sized fleshy rock hit me square in the nose. I doubled over, holding my head in my hands.
"What the fuck!" Screaming I ran around the counter into what I realized was a full on bar fight.
I grabbed the shirt of the nearest brawler to me, and yanked back as hard as I could. He gagged on his shirt collar, and fell backwards into my knee. Leaving him rolling on the floor I moved further into the fray.
I felt a hand grip my shoulder. Ducking down I turned, swept his feet out from under him, and moved on. I'd had enough.  I jumped up on the bar and grabbed a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue.
I raised the bottle in the air. "Everyone sit down or Johnnie gets it!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. The room fell silent.
"That's better."
I climbed off the counter, and poured myself a shot. Every eye in the room followed my hand as I lifted the glass to my lips, and let the amber liquid it slide down my throat.
There is at least one upside to being a bartender.

Anything

I work hard. I don't sleep much. I'm tired. I know one of these days it's going to catch up with me, but I'll worry about that later.
I put my energy drink down, and focused on my laptop monitor. The words on the screen blurred together, making what should have been an expertly choreographed paragraph look like a kindergartners book report.
Bah! it's not that hard! Only a paragraph or two, and I can go to bed.
Like a flash of light inspiration hit, and the words flowed from my fingers like water.
Finished!
I spelled checked my work, clicked publish, and closed my laptop, happy in the knowledge that if I set my mind to it, I could in fact accomplish anything.

Ball

I pick up the ball. I bring it back. There it goes! Woohoo! I got it!
I pick up the ball. I bring it back. There it goes! Woohoo! I got it! 
I pick up the ball. I bring it back. There it goes! Where'd it go? Where'd it go? Woohoo I found it!
I pick up the ball. I bring it back. There it goes! Where'd it go? Where'd it go? I can't find it, so I run back, smiling.
OH! There it goes!

Nigh Nigh

I lay my daughter down, and cover us both up with the blanket. My feet stick off the end of the bed a foot or so, and Bella laughs.
"Mommy funny."
"Yes, yes Mommy's feet are funny. Lay down I'll sing the Nigh nigh song."
I begin to sing and she waves her hands gently in the air to the melody. The first verse ends with a bah bu bum bah bum, while I tap her tummy in time. With the toddler giggling madly at me, I start it over again, repeat it once, and half again.
"You know I love you, and I really must say, goodnight sweetheart goodnight..."
She smiles, filling her entire face with joy. I kiss her on the forehead, walk out, and shut the door behind me.

Photoshop

I'm attempting to work on a project on Photoshop. This is a mistake. I know it. My husband knows it. The world at large should know it. Don't you try telling me that you love the program, and it's simple to use. I know people. People who used up time in their life going to classes to learn how to use this infernal program, and still can barely use it. So yeah... there's that...

Birthday

Cake. Ice cream. Party hats. Small children running, screaming. This is what you would expect a birthday party for two year old to be like. Not my friends. Zombie themed cake, food, decorations, and a conversation that hinged around a movie called "A Serbian Film". Dear God. I have no words. Also, Rift, Wow, and Ever Quest. All I seemed to learn from this, is that I have some @#$%ing awesome friends, who I hope will join me in group therapy when our children are all older.

One Question

I sat on the Max, heading into downtown Portland  It was empty, so Iput my head phones on and set my Ipod to shuffle. Joan Osborne? I didn't even know I had this on here...

If God had a name what would it be?
And would you call it to his face?
If you were faced with him 
In all his glory
What would you ask if you had just one question?

Heh. What would I ask God if I got a chance to talk to him?
I looked up, there was a man sitting in the bench across from me gently bobbing his head to the music in his ears. The bus hadn't stopped, and I knew he hadn't been there a second ago. How the hell had he gotten there?
I stared at him.
He had his shoulder length hair pulled back into a loose pony tail. His not so neatly trimmed beard was the same tawny blonde as his hair.
I stared at him.
He wasn't homeless, his clothes were too clean. Comfortable looking though, not sloppy mind you, just, comfortable.
Tentatively I got out of my seat, leaving my headphones next to my things, and sat down next to him.
The two of us, sat in silence for several minutes before he pulled out his ear-buds, and turned to look at me.
"Did you want something sweetheart?"
"Are you...?"
"Am I what?"
I raised my eyebrows at him, looking at the ceiling. "Ya know... Him."
He smiled, looking at the floor. "What do you think?"
"I knew it..."
"Did you have a question for me?"
I hesitated... who was I to question Him? "Why?"
"Why?" He looked at me questioningly
"Yes. Why? Why are you just sitting here listening to music when you could be out there", I gestured widely to the windows, "doing some good. I mean you created this world after all! Why not do something?!"
He smiled. "I can't fix everything for you girly."
"I don't want..." he held his hand up, cutting my words short.
"You do want me to fix everything, but if I did, what would you truly gain from it?"
"A better world!"
"But would you appreciate it?"
I started to say yes, then stopped. I shook my head.
"See? You have to help yourself, or how would you learn to appreciate this beautiful world my girl?"
He placed his hands on either side of my face, wiping away the tears I didn't were there.
"You know I love you right?" I nodded. "Then you know I do this not because I don't want to, but because of what I want for you." I nodded again, and he kissed me on the forehead. The max operator called out the next stop, and when I looked up he was gone.

Haikus

(About the stars)
Like winter snowflake
Soft in the nights sky the stars
What stories they tell.

(I'ts about 9gag. If you're a 9gager, you'll get it)
Together we laugh
Vote page beckons like evil.
We have your soul now.

(About the beach)
Sand between my toes.
Water, too cool for season.
I'll wait for summer.

(About my daughter)
Angry toddler fit.
Why must you cry little one.
The world's not that bad.

Ten People

I found a writing exercise online, that said to pick ten people I know, and write one sentence about them.
Errr okay...

I think she needs to loosen up, be less prudish ya know?
He's one of the most handsome men I know, beautiful at his very core.
Thinking of ways to out smart him is harder than I would have ever thought.
I never thought I could fine someone so lovely, and so interesting at first meeting.
I wish that if she had to be passionate about something, that, that something would be less crazy.
Subtly is not her strong suite, nor mine.
Wishing that she would take more pride in herself will get me nowhere until she wants to do it herself.
A daily conversation with him, and I feel worlds better about it's events.
Adventure is on the rise, and I think she might be able to get me there.
More than anyone else I know, they probably think this last line is about them... :P

Battleground

It was warm out. Bright, and sunny. Too nice considering what we were all milling around waiting to do.
A horn sounded, and the barrier holding us back was released! Surging forward we rushed toward the center of the arena weapons in hand. I cast my protection spells on as many of my compatriots as I could and continued sprinting toward the epicenter of the battle.
Renalto grabbed the waiting artifact, and turned on his heal, dashing my direction. Casting as many healing, and protection spells, as I could, as fast as I could, I followed him, praying that it would be enough to keep him alive.
My efforts, however were simply not enough. The horrific nature of the artifact was such that it siphoned his very life away faster than I could heal it, and he died.
I felt a sharp pain in my back, and whirled around to face an attacker wielding two short swords. I began to heal myself, when my spell failed. I threw a curse of deadly power into his face, and watched as he fell before me. The damage, however was too great, and before I was able to heal myself fully, I was accosted by another assailant.
The world was black for a moment... and I found myself in limbo, with my fallen companions. I rejoiced at seeing their faces again.
Abruptly, we were whole again. Alive. Smiling, we looked at each other, and ran back into the fray.